The Things We Hide
by jewelle32
Summary: Daryl gets captured by the Governor but in a tragic mistake, the group don't bother to look for him because they think he's with his brother. He returns to them a broken, shattered shell of his former self and Rick worries whether he will ever be able to recover. Implied/described rape and torture. But can the one person the group don't want with them help bring him back?
1. Chapter 1

**The Things We Hide**

**Chapter 1**

i.

Rick went in to check on Daryl. He paused outside the door listening. Didn't hear anything – and a chill went through him. Because, the mental state the younger Dixon was in- could he have done it? The thought filled him with dread.

He weighed up the two options – burst in and surprise him or the silent approach. Knowing what his nerves were like and not wanting to jangle them any further, he decided upon the latter.

Turned the door handle silently.

Didn't have time to draw breath when he saw an indistinct man-shaped mass pounce on him and he felt the knife at his throat.

Damn! He'd forgotten how dangerous Daryl could be – quick as a cheetah making him wonder how they'd managed to capture him in the first place. Yet he felt no fear.

He stayed still, calm.

'Daryl?' He called out softly. 'It's me, Rick .'

Silence but the knife still stayed at his throat.

'I'm not gonna hurt you.'

Suddenly the knife was gone from his throat, shortly after came the bounce of worn bed-springs, the house they were hiding in was quite old.

Then he heard it – a deep, throaty sob coming from the other man that tore into Rick's chest. Made him want to put his arms around him and rock him, comfort him. Like he would have done Carl.

But he didn't dare.

Then, nothing.

'Daryl?' No answer but then he didn't expect one. Rick had sent out a team to try and track down Merle – although he had his reservations about letting him back into the fold but if he could help Daryl, they'd all have to swallow down their grudges. Maggie and Glenn included. They cared about Daryl, she'd cried when she found him, along with Andrea.

He remembered his cop-training from his old life. What to do, not to do. What to say, not to say in these situations.

With people who had been through what the younger Dixon had endured. But yet he typically remained stoically silent since they'd brought him back about what he'd suffered was clear in the way he trembled and the constant pain and terror in his eyes. Only in his sleep, would he reveal his secrets sometimes. Like he'd never left Woodbury and he didn't know if he could trust the people he was with not to hurt him. Even though they'd lived together for months before.

'I'm coming over. Just want to sit with you. That OK?'

No answer but Rick decided to take his silence as consent.

It was still dark and dawn wasn't very far away. Even so, his eyes had had time to adjust to the darkness and he could see the shape of Daryl's body. His eyes automatically trying to make out the scars he knew were on his back even though he knew that it was too dark to see.

He went over as quietly as he could, and hesitated before he sat down on the bed where the Hunter was curled up in a ball, panting shallowly. Rick knew by his breathing that he was fighting panic.

'It's OK. It's only me.' He stretched out his hand slowly to touch his friend's shoulder where he was facing the wall with his back to him.

'D..don't. Please don't. Daryl pleaded and Rick immediately withdrew.

Even though Daryl was facing the other way, he knew what Rick was up to. But the ex-cop felt a glimmer of hope when he heard the words.

They were the first words that Daryl had spoken since they'd rescued him.

'I'm going to stay with you. That OK?'

Rick saw the hunter nod in the darkness and give a long shuddering sigh.

He stayed to the morning watching over him as his body relaxed and his breathing grew slow and regular. and Daryl slept peacefully through. Rick dozed off himself before dawn. It seemed that having someone he trusted there with him helped him to get through the night.

ii.

Daryl barely registered the return of his brother unexpectedly as they sat around the campfire. Michonne had taken out a team to track him down but instead, he'd found them. Rick saw a brief gleam of recognition in Merle's brother's eyes but he didn't get up to greet him. In fact, he _cringed_ when Merle, unaware of the situation or what had been done to his baby brother, slapped him heartily on the back. 'Well, how's it goin', baby brother? Miss me?'

But Daryl made a hurt small animal sound and cowered away from his hand.

Merle looked at him in mingled hurt and disgust. His expression morphing rapidly into worry when he realised that there was something seriously wrong with his baby brother.

'Merle...' Michonne started.

'...we need to talk to you in private.' Rick finished. 'Maggie, look after him.'

Merle looked at his brother in concern as Daryl turned away and acted like he didn't even see him there.

A few moments later, a fight nearly broke out.' What? Ya tellin' me ya did what to him? Thought he was with _me_?_'_

'We didn't know...' Rick tried to explain. 'We didn't know he was still there...We thought he'd gone with you.'

…...

Merle whirled around. Face red, fists clenched. 'They done what to him? Ya gonna pay for this, _Rick_.' He sneered the last word, his voice dripping contempt. 'If he never gets over it...'

'Now, now. I know ya upset – we jus' gotta all pull together and help him get through this...'

'Back off.' Michonne had slid out her katana from its sheath and put it out as a barrier between the two men.

'This ain't over.' Merle snarled. 'I'm gonna...'

'STOP!'

They turned round back to the fire – the source of the sound. It was Daryl. He was standing up now and trembling, the blanket Maggie had wrapped around him half-falling off his shrunken frame.

But it was he who had spoken and there was a sharp awareness in his eyes that hadn't been there since they got him back.

Rick felt a renewed surge of hope as he and Merle stood off and Michonne dropped her sword.

'He's right.' She said. 'Your brother's the most important thing, Merle.' She said. 'Let's concentrate on him.'

They went back to the campfire. Merle tried to tentatively touch Daryl but he leaned away from him.

'He don't let anyone touch him.' Rick said in explanation to the older Dixon's hurt expression.

He whispered to Merle: 'What they did...'

But Daryl heard as he whipped his head round suddenly in fury. 'Stop tallkin' 'bout me like I ain't there!' He snapped.

'Sorry.' Rick mumbled but nevertheless, was glad to see the fire back in his eyes again.

But over the next nights by the campfire, Merle inched closer and closer to his brother. Started off by gently stroking his hair, tucking the loose, greasy strands behind his ears. Brushing the rest back. Daryl shrugged his hand off the first couple of nights but now to Rick's surprise, he was allowing it. Even closed his eyes in relaxation.

Michonne raised her eyebrows at him and Merle smirked at her knowingly when Daryl eventually rested his head on his brother's shoulder. But his smirk soon died when he pushed things to far when he tried to put an arm around him because Daryl cried out 'No!' and shoved him away. _Hard_. Got up then and stomped back to their tent, leaving Merle nonplussed and an awkwardness in the air in his wake.

Merle knew then he had to tread carefully with the boy. If what Rick and the others said was true... He'd have to treat Daryl with care. Like after he had with Tammy after she'd been kidnapped by the Razors. Give her her power back. But he'd made sure that they'd felt his wrath.

Same as he was going to do to those animals who had despoiled his baby brother.

But first, he had to bring Daryl back.

He knew that the most important thing was to give back Daryl the sense of power and control over his body that they'd viciously ripped away from him. For Merle not to do anything against his will – not even hold him like Merle was aching to do since he found out what had been done to him.

Over the next through nights, Merle had progressed to holding his brother when Daryl eventually let the arms he trusted most in the world around him. The older Dixon instinctively knew that he badly needed physical comfort, touching that was 'safe'. Gradually the deer-in-the-headlights faded from Daryl's eyes and he stopped trembling even when it wasn't cold. He'd even started to eat again when none of them could coax him to take a little food when his brother set a plate in front of him.

'Eat.' He ordered him. Daryl began to shake his head, turned his head away from the bowl of squirrel stew. Merle firmly but gently guided his face back to it.

'N...No.' Daryl turned his face away.

Merle stroked his hair. 'Come on. Ya gotta eat Ya look jus' like a skinny scarecrow..'

Daryl finally nodded, bent his head down and ate a few bites before he put it down again. Still not enough but at least it was better than nothing. His stomach had shrunk into a small, tight ball.

'Good .' Merle praised him. 'Good. Ya can eat a little more tomorrow.' Before he put his arm around his little brother and drew him to him. Daryl let him and started to close his eyes.

Even if Rick didn't like the older Dixon, thought him hard and callous, he had to admit that he was able to bring Daryl back, knew how to handle him.

Rick would have expected Merle to just bully him better but he didn't do that.

It wasn't like he was spying on them but he stopped when he heard Merle's voice coming from inside their tent. Low and earnest.

'Tell me what he said to ya, little brother.'

Daryl whimpered.

'He...He said he had ya, Merle and that he was gonna kill everybody in the prison and that he was gonna kill ya...if...I ... or I ...didn't and ...I believed '_im_, Merle... I mean I knew it wasn't true but ...I...' He was stammering now.

'It's OK, Daryl. I'm here now. Ain't ever gonna leave my baby brother ever again. Whatever he wants to do.'

'He used to tell all the things they were doin' to ya,_ really_ _sick things_ and how ya cried and begged for mercy but I didn't ever believe 'im, Merle. I never did! Never!'

'Sh...sh...I know ya never did. It's OK.'

'Tell Merle now what he did to little baby Darlena.' Merle coaxed, addressing his baby brother by that nickname he used to tease him normally. 'Merle ain't important.'

'_They_.' His brother whispered. '_They..._M...Merle...They...they...Oh, God, Merle...it _hurt_..'

Rick heard Merle's sharp intake of breath. He shook his own head too – Daryl hadn't spoken much about what they'd done to him much outside his sleep. Heard a rustling sound as he presumably moved closer to his distressed brother.

'More than one?' He probed gently.

'Yeah.' Daryl started gabbling and Rick couldn't understand his words. Merle felt sickened that now they knew for sure that it hadn't just been the Governor.

'Come here, sweet boy.' Merle said to him softly. 'Come to Ole Merle.' The ex-cop imagined him urging Daryl into his arms and soothing him like they'd seen him do. 'Did they hurt ya? Did they _hurt _baby Darlena?' He crooned to him in disbelief. And that was when Daryl started to cry. Broken down by the tenderness in his brother's words as much as his gentle tone.

Finally broken down by love and gentleness. The last surge to break the dam and release the flood.

'The sick fucks.' Merle snarled in rage through his brother's sobs. 'I'm gonna make them beg for death time I'm through with them.' He promised savagely.

On the eighth night since his brother came back and after a half a bottle of vodka that Merle had been feeding him, Daryl began to tell them what had happened to him at the hands of the Governor in more detail.

Haltingly, with pauses where it seemed he couldn't get the words out or find the right words to express himself while sheltering in the safety of his big brother's arms tight around him.

When he choked up and tears came into his eyes, Merle would stroke his hair or rock him. And whisper encouragement in his ears.

Everyone stared at this in shock – nobody had expected the rude, crude older Dixon to be like this with his baby brother.

Nobody had expected Merle to _love_.

Still, Rick could tell that Herschel wasn't happy with his daughters hearing this. Especially Maggie, with her own run-in with the Woodbury leader still raw. And he had to admit, he didn't want Carl to be there either.

But if Daryl was brave enough to tell, they would have to be brave enough to listen.


	2. Chapter 2

Merle was plunging his hands into Daryl's hair while his brother sat, head down, shivering in the tub.

Even though it wasn't even cold – a typical late Georgian Spring, he was washing his baby brother – old style, away from the prying eyes of the camp.

He'd persuaded Daryl – sick of seeing his greasy, lank hair, his stink. His stubble that Merle had recently razored away. Took him by the hand like they were children again and brought Daryl here, unresisting. To get clean, out in the fresh hair.

Had he even washed since they rescued him? Why hadn't someone showered him, cleaned him up? He felt another burst of anger towards the group and Rick, who'd not only allowed his baby brother to be used, abused and broken but had abandoned him to his fate.

After all he'd done for them.

Merle lathered the shampoo in his hands before a final rinse with clean water from one of the metal pails on the ground beside the tub. The water was cold but that didn't matter, the sun was rising and the day was growing warmer.

'Stand up.' He ordered Daryl quietly. He obeyed without murmur but when Merle tried to pull down his boxers – the piece of clothing he'd insisted on keeping on- Daryl grabbed his hands.

'No.' He said. Not normally shy around his big brother but then Merle didn't know that they'd stripped him roughly and laughed at the scars on his back from their father. Mocked the size of his manhood before they started to roughly grope him.

Daryl could hear their jeering laughter now. When Merle tried to remove his underwear, 'Thought ya'd be big like ya brother.' Even in his terror, he'd wondered how they knew how big Merle was. Or were they just bluffing? 'Who whipped ya? Was it ya Daddy?' They'd asked. 'Because ya were _bad_?

Merle rolled his eyes. 'Come on. It's only me. Not like I ain't seen it before.' He tried again.

'Don't.' His brother shoved his hands away his words coming out now more like a plea.

'OK, OK.' Merle sighed, raising his hands in surrender. 'Keep them on then. But ya gonna change all ya clothes when we get back.'

Daryl nodded obediently and slumped back down in the tub. Leaned back in relaxation and closed his eyes when his brother started to massage his neck and shoulders with the soapy sponge. Merle smirked smugly. While he was doing it, he paused now and then to trace the raised, bumpy lines of scar tissue lovingly with his finger – just above the skin's surface so that his brother didn't know what he was doing. He sighed, whispering into his brother's ear, 'Ya so beautiful, baby brother. Ain't no-one who could take that away from ya, not _him_, not _them._ No matter what the sick fucks do.'

When he mentioned 'him' and 'them', Daryl started trembling more violently than before as he let out a low whimper and Merle kicked himself. Daryl was getting better, the boy was tough and healed fast but he wasn't that _better_ yet. So, instead of scolding him for being a pusssy like he would have done in the past, he shushed him. Tucked back his hair behind his ears. Stroked his back, letting his fingers glide over the scars lightly.

_I'm the only one he let's touch him. None of the others. _He grinned to himself. _Daryl's mine again. Mine! _He hated what had happened to him, he'd have died willingly if it had meant that his baby brother would have been spared what they did to him in Woodbury but this was the one good thing to come out of his ordeal. Daryl only trusted his big brother now. Had become distant towards even Rick and Glenn.

'Ya only trust me, don't ya, baby brother? Ya know that nobody is ever gonna be able to understand ya or love ya as much as I do.'

Daryl didn't answer but sighed in contentment as Merle's hands worked their magic, ironing out all the aches and pains from his tense muscles. As they moved lower and lower down his body. Who in the group would have expected Merle to be good at massage? They didn't know but he'd learnt a few tricks in prison.

The older Dixon was gratified to see that damn shaking stop.

'Only Merle can make ya feel this good. Ya know I can.'

Daryl gave small, weak smile and nodded without speaking or opening his eyes. It wamed his brother's heart to see it.

After a while, when the water was getting cold and Daryl's skin was puckering, Merle decided it was time for him to get out of the bath. Besides, he was started to tremble again but this time with cold.

He held the towel he'd been warming on a sun-warmed rock to him. 'Come on. I promise I won't look, ya little girl.' He smirked but true to his word, turned his head away as Daryl pulled down the dirty boxers and stepped out of them, leaving them lying on the ground. Merle wrapped him up in the warm towel then and used it as an excuse to embrace him. Holding onto him a bit longer than necessary because he was enjoying this closeness. Because it was just like when he'd used to give his brother a bath when they were kids because Mama was passed out or whatever.

He held him like that, pinning Daryl's arms to his sides until he started to thrash around and panic crept into his eyes.

'Let go of me you fag. I ain't a baby.'

Merle laughed and released him. Glad to see him get some of the fire back in his eyes.

'At least ya don't stink like a pigshit now, little brother.' He teased.

Daryl secured the towel around his waist, picked up the dirty boxers in one hand and gave his brother a playful shove. 'Who says you always smell like you just fell into a bed of roses? Ya stink even when ya just washed.'

That night, while Daryl was stumblingly telling his story with his big brother's arms tight around him, Rick forced himself and everyone else to listen. He felt sick with guilt and pity even though Daryl was deliberately being sparing with the gritty details but their minds filled in

whatever he didn't say.

The worst thing was that they had left him behind unknowingly. It was all his fault because he hadn't been able to persuade Daryl to stay – couldn't fight the hold his big brother had over him.

Blood was blood and the group were nothing against that bond. Yet, Rick had seen how they younger man appeared to visibly shrink in his brother's shadow.

And the way Merle touched him, spoke to him made the leader's skin crawl. Something about it...but he couldn't put his finger on it. Even though it was clear that Merle deeply loved and cared about Daryl. Besides, he knew that as soon as he could, Merle would be plotting how to get Daryl away from them so that he could have his little brother all to himself.

Rick vowed he wouldn't let him.

When Daryl became more or less incoherent as he swigged more and more from the vodka bottle, the tears and snot streaming down his face, Merle decided it was enough. Embarrassed for him, he'd got him up and dragged him back to their tent. Rick watched them go with a deep frown of concern written on his face.

He turned to the others, many of them who were crying now but hadn't in front of the hunter out of respect for him – Maggie, Carol, Beth and even Glenn. They knew how Daryl hated people to feel sorry for him.

He wanted to say something hopeful, comforting but he didn't know what because the truth was, there wasn't anything he could say. It had happened to Daryl and nothing they could do could undo it. He couldn't erase the feeling of collective guilt they shared that they'd unwittingly left him behind either.

They could only help him heal.

Worse – he was sure that Merle would use their terrible mistake to persuade his brother to leave them once and for all.

Merle got his sobbing brother into the tent. Stroked his hair soothingly and put one arm around him until Daryl leaned into him and finally calmed down enough to sleep.

'Let's get ya into bed.' He pulled he's shoes off just like he was a child again, and arranged the covers around him. He only needed a couple of light ones – the warm sleeping-bag for camping would have been too much this weather.

Daryl wasn't long in falling asleep. Merle hoped that he wouldn't have too much of a throbbing headache when he woke up. Or be mortified that he'd told them too much about what had happened.

When he was safely sleeping, Merle gazed down at his face. Daryl's skin was smooth, the lines less visible. He looked at peace with the world, boyishly young even.

Merle leaned forward to breathe in his brother's scent. It was like his own – musky.

It reminded him of their father and unwanted memories threatened to crowd his mind. Mainly of that bastard's heavy body pinning him down – he'd had the same scent as theirs only always mixed with whiskey or beer – whatever he had decided to drink that day.

'Fuck off.' Merle growled. 'I ain't nothin' like ya. I never _hurt _him.'

And it seemed like he could hear their Daddy in his head, laughing that bitter, dark laugh of his. Mocking Merle's pathetic attempt to lie to himself.

He reached down and kissed his brother's forehead lingeringly. Drew back after and listened to Daryl's breathing and when he was satisfied that he wasn't going to wake up, laid a quick peck on his brother's lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**- Warnings – this chapter gets extremely dark. It may even shock and disgust you. It's a Merle POV after all!**

**What are Merle's true motives when it comes to his baby brother and what is the secret that lies between them? Why is Rick creeped out by the way he touches Daryl? Most importantly, can the younger Dixon move on from what he endured at Woodbury? **

Mere hated seeing his tough, formerly bad-ass baby brother looking so vulnerable and fragile, scared of his own shadow and at times he wanted to grab him by the throat and shake him back to the way he was. Every flinch, cringe or whimper – (well he'd always been highly-strung, how their father had treated him hadn't helped - but not like this) grated on him making him clench his fists to stop him from beating him down for being a little pussy. But he couldn't hurt Daryl more than he'd already been hurt and he hated and blamed the group for what they'd let happen to him. Yet he admitted that part of him also enjoyed how much Daryl needed him when he was this broken. How his baby brother looked up to him like when they were kids when Merle had been his whole world. Had to be with their drunk, dumb-fuck parents. Part of Merle relished taking care of him, in some ways, he knew he was treating him like a child again. Daryl clung to him and him alone, those hurt, big blue eyes wide pleading with him silently to make it all better.

Make it all go away.

Make it like it had never have happened.

But as much as he wanted to turn back time, Merle couldn't. All he could do was hold him close and whisper sweet lies into his ear that everything was going to be OK.

It wasn't like Merle didn't have experience of this kind of thing. When Tammy came back – bruised and battered, her long, dark hair dishevelled, clothes ripped after she'd disappeared for days, the 100 yard stare in her eyes, the same look Daryl had in his eyes but less often now, he'd known immediately what had happened to her. He'd been searching for her, at the back of his mind he always knew that she'd been taken for his drugs debts.

When they dumped her off, she'd been half-drugged. Dazed.

_Crazed_. Barely decent. Clothes filthy, ripped and torn. She'd stunk of sex, booze, fags and blood.

Don't forget terror. The scent of fear hung heavily about her like it always would from then on, no matter how much Merle tried to take it away.

They'd taken the only thing – second to Daryl – that he'd cared about. Given her back to him like that - ruined, shattered. Driven off like cowards before he could confront them. Didn't matter – he knew who they were. Worse than if they'd just killed her so that he didn't have to look at how she'd been punished _for him_.

Now someone else -this time his baby brother no less – was paying for Merle, _again_. The Governor knew he was Merle's brother – he'd ordered them to fight to the death after all– brother against brother before they'd escaped the first time. Daryl initially unnerved and trembling from the feral calls for his blood from the Woodbury mob braying around them. Hyperventilating like he always did when things got too much for him. Nevertheless, after they ripped the sack of his face and undid his bonds but then he'd steeled himself and got himself into fighting mode pretty quickly.

The sick bastard's only one regret was probably that Merle hadn't been there to see his baby brother's degradation. Merle knew that if he could, he would have used Daryl as bait to lure Merle back to pay for what he saw as his betrayal.

He'd tried to put his arms around her, 'Come here, baby. What did they do?'. He'd embraced her only gently- _gentle for him_- but she'd still gasped in fear and he'd immediately let her go. _Fear of him? _Yeah – he knew he was pretty intimidating but he'd never hurt a woman before except with his barbed tongue. Memories of Mama's black eyes and purple and yellowing bruises covering her legs had always held him back - he'd never wanted to be like their - he never hurt them unless they wanted it – believe it, some of them did like her. Tammy had been one of those who enjoyed it rough. _Very fucking rough_. He'd given her a few scrapes and bruises but then he'd always come off worse – no blow had been to low for her in the throes of passion. That's one of the reasons he had loved her – her fire, her thirst for new experiences, her lack of _fear_. But now all she had – was consumed with was by fear no matter how much Merle tried to take her terror away. In the end, he'd done the only thing he could and gone and made the rapists pay.

So she'd finally feel safe.

But Tammy was never the same again, remained always broken and it had taken weeks after before she'd even let him touch her. He didn't know why he stayed so long – normally he would have got of there before, not put up with that but instead he stayed. He could always see the cracks in her. And she'd been the only woman he'd loved.

But Daryl was strong, he told himself. A Dixon. Tough. He'd get through this with the right handling.

The similarities between his brother's and his dead girlfriend's fates were ironic really – even if Daryl was a man. All because of Merle. He nearly laughed out loud bitterly at the irony of it all.

Daryl didn't know about Tammy or the other girls. Him and Merle hadn't shared much about the times when they'd been separated.

He wondered dully whether Daryl had ever had a woman or even got laid with one. The boy used to get into a panic and shied away from anyone who touched him- except for his brother. Even when someone merely brushed past him or laid an innocent hand on his shoulder, his breathing would get ragged and he'd squirm away. Merle knew he'd always been skittish but even his brother's reactions seemed on the extreme side. Nevertheless, he hadn't wanted to dwell on the reasons for Daryl's reluctance to being touched. But before Woodbury, he'd been getting better. Smirking back at him when he sensed Merle's jealously whenever Rick slung a brotherly arm around his shoulders and Daryl let it stay! Or Carol – the horny old bitch - touched his arm or hand and he didn't flinch back!

Was Daryl doing it just to rile him up? Show him that the wasn't the only one in his life anymore?

Now, he'd only just got his brother back but it wasn't his baby brother any more and he'd have given anything to have that exasperating Daryl back – mocking him for his anger when he saw how he allowed the others to touch them. Not everyone though – only a select few from the group. Instead of this shadow of what he used to be.

He hated those men who had reduced his little brother to this and he vowed that as soon as he could leave Daryl, he was going to make every one of those bastards suffer. Fuck them to death and rip their limbs from their bodies if he could. Drag it out –long and slow that they felt every bit of pain they'd inflicted on Daryl ten times over. His brother had already told him some of their names – they hadn't cared because the Governor was going to kill him once he'd used him all up until there was nothing even a reaction or a moan of pain or a whimper of protest - just an empty shell with dead eyes like Merle had dispassionately watched many other prisoners become. No use to the Governor – without their suffering, he didn't get off on them so well. But luckily Rick and the others had stumbled on Daryl before that happened. While they were trying to rescue that blonde bitch Andrea.

The boy had lasted five days of that torture – he was strong. His baby brother was _tough_ and he felt pride well up at how long Daryl had survived. He knew that they would have been going at him day and night – if he was lucky, they'd allow him a couple of hours to rest. Gave him the bare minimum of food and water and the occasional toilet break.

But Merle knew that the bastard would have enjoyed his baby brother more than the others – Daryl had that effect on predators. Like their Daddy, for example. There was something sweet and fragile about the boy that turned them on despite his obvious toughness – Daryl's inner beauty was his curse. It was more enduring and endearing than mere physical good looks. Which his brother had too, he thought, looking down at his sleeping brother admiringly. Ran his forefinger lightly down his brother's back, just grazing the scarred skin as his slept so that he wouldn't wake up, whispering to him.

_'So fuckin' beautiful – inside and out, brother. No wonder he – they - wanted ya.' _Merle shuddered. '_Poor baby Darlena. Did the bad men hurt ya real bad?' _He crooned sympathetically to him like he was addressing a child. Despite himself, he was getting aroused at the thought of Daryl being held down and violated, fucked in his mouth, his ass – maybe two at the same time back there. Semen from multiple men leaking out of him everywhere. Their hands all over him while he squirmed, trying to escape their rough groping when he'd gone in there already with his aversion to harmless, every day physical contact from strangers. Merle groaned at the vision. Did he cry? No, he would never have cried – Merle corrected himself, no matter what the bastards did to him. Only Merle could have brought him to tears afterwards, knowing how badly Daryl needed to let them out. _Would he have whimpered? Probably but he would never have begged for mercy._ But he would have fought back as much as he could. Until they beat him down and finally ovewhelmed him. He would have fought _like a Dixon_. Like Merle had taught him to fight. He hoped that he had killed at least one of them before they tied him down and gagged him. Would he have come? Had he moaned, or cried out, his muscles spasming despite himself as they forced orgasm after orgasm out of him with the pain? Daryl hadn't told him the full details – they'd drugged him and his recollection was fuzzy in some places. No doubt, though he would have done some of his torturers damage – lashed out with his foot and broken a nose or bit one of his rapist's cocks off...

Merle moaned quietly, he was getting hard at the fantasy of his brother's violation without even touching himself, at where his imagination was taking him. He shook his head and tried to calm himself down. Looked down at his bulging erection. He was either going to leave the tent for a cold shower or undo his pants and take care of himself. Even with his little brother sleeping nearby – the main star in his jerk-off gang- rape fantasy. Thoughts couldn't hurt Daryl, could they? He wouldn't even be touching him. Because he'd joined in the gang-rapes himself, men and women with Tammy's face in his mind all the time. '_How could you?__'__ She was saying. __'__When you know what they did to me?__'_But he'd shut her bruised and battered image out of his mind when he got down and dirty- fucking some unfortunate against their will. And no, Merle didn't indulge in rape under normal circumstances – he may be an asshole but he wasn't that sick but something about the Governor – something about the pack mentality of the men under him had driven him on. And he couldn't deny that he'd enjoyed it. The sick fuck had found out the darkness inside of Merle from their Daddy that had always been close to the surface and brought it out into the light to give it full reign. Like he did with most people. Most people had some darkness in them and the bastard knew how to use it. No - Merle couldn't even use the drugs and alcohol as an excuse. They had merely helped him to see the victims as nothing, nobodies. Once they were prisoners, they were as good as dead anyway. If they had any sense, they'd be begging for death.

He was a sick fuck. No better than the fucking Governor but at least he'd left him. If Daryl knew the things he'd done...had enjoyed doing...but all these memories that should have horrified him, filled him with remorse and regret were making him horny...

Merle was about to unzip his pants and get his hard dick out, he'd still refrained from touching himself with great difficulty and his breathing almost coming in pants now. But then he looked over at his brother lying next to him like an accusation. If he knew how Merle had done those things in Woodbury, things his baby brother would never have stooped to – Daryl would despise him forever. He was smart – he probably knew or at least suspected. But he'd never asked Merle if he'd participated in the gang-rapes on the Governor's orders.

His arousal died as he ripped his hand away from his flies at this thought.

He wasn't asking him now but that didn't mean he wouldn't demand answers later. Daryl knew he'd been the Governor's second man.

A short time after – enough time anyway for Merle's hard-one to shrink, he didn't want Daryl to see, the younger Dixon stirred beside him. 'M...Merle...'. He looked up at him, those blue eyes wide, those full, red lips trembling that those bastards must have found so irresistable. Making Merle feel another surge of impotent rage and hatred for those animals who had defiled him. The sweet boy's first thought when he woke was for his big brother, of course. Merle had to stop the thoughts and impulses kaleidoscoping around his head when he saw him like that – hair mussed from sleep, disorientated and looking more vulnerable and younger than ever.

The side he had usually only allowed Merle to see. But since the rapes...

Instead, bringing himself under control, Merle brushed the loose hair back off his baby brother's face with one hand, one side gently after the other.

'Come here.' He told him before Daryl went to him willingly enough, burying his face in his chest as Merle wrapped his arms around him.

'They don't care about ya.' He whispered to his younger brother as he rocked him back and forth in a soothing rhythm. 'Ya know that, don't ya? To them, ya jus' a piece of throw-away redneck trash, like me that's why they weren't even lookin' for ya. It's only me who really cares about ya. Understands ya.'

He landed a kiss on his cheek near his ear.

'Yeah, we all know how ya show you care.' Daryl suddenly snarled, words muffled into his chest with bitter sarcasm, sounding like his old self but still not looking up at him.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Merle tightened his arms about his him.

'It means get the fuck off me.' He growled back, fighting to free himself from his brother.

Merle released him. 'Well, well.' He mocked. 'Got ya balls back in ya pants at last, baby brother?'. But inside,he concealed an icy chill went through him . _Did Daryl remember_? _Was __that__ the reason for the sudden turn around?_

'Fuck you.' Daryl eye-balled him mercilessly, his expression stony hard, unreadable. 'Ya tryin' to drive a wedge between me and Rick and the others? Ya no better. Ya left me behind for _years _and ya my brother. My family. They didn't know where I was, thought I was with you. What's ya excuse?'

Merle found that he was uncharacteristically struck speechless with no comeback as his brother brusehd past him almost rudely and got out of the tent. Strode with angry, purposeful steps towards the camp. Followed by anxious calls, 'Daryl, ya OK?' and 'Where ya goin'?'.

Even 'Did Merle upset ya?' coming from the older and sexier Greene bitch who would always hate him.


	4. Chapter 4

TTWH 4

Last chapter was a bit heavy-going, very dark even though it was just Merle's thoughts and imagination but that's bad enough! Whatever his subconscious does, it's not the same as doing it for real and Merle does clearly love and care for Daryl who needs him now more than ever.

Here's a bit more background, anyway with a different character and Daryl. I hope that it's eventually a bit lighter than the last chapter because Merle's head is a very dark and scary place to walk around in.

Enjoy!

i.  
Glenn

The dream about the young boy – about 11 or 12 with brown hair and piercing blue eyes woke him up. The boy was crying, sitting on the step of the porch of the rickety wooden house near the woods. Dead squirrels and other small animalswere hung up from its overhanging roof, swinging from side to side in the had his head bowed in his lap and his shoulders were shaking silently with sobs. That didn't matter – Glenn had seen his black eyes and the long bruise in the shape of a large handprint along his jaw. His shirt was ripped too at the front. One or two buttons hanging off by their threads. Glenn knew that his skin under the shirt was riddled with burn marks from cigarettes and even from the hot stove where The Man had forced him to lean against its hot surface after he made him strip down to his waist.  
Somehow Glenn knew he was the boy but the boy was also someone else too. Someone familiar – he and him at the same time. That's why he felt they boy's hurt - his body was also throbbing with pain from various places.  
Both the boy/Glenn looked up, startled when The Man bellowed from inside the house, through the open door. 'Come here, boy! I ain't finished with ya yet!' Glenn felt his head turn reluctantly back in that direction. His hands to care to wipe away any trace of tears – although of course his eyes were red. More cause for punishment. 'Ya cryin', boy? Git over 'ere, ya fuckin' little pussy!'. Was about to get up slowly – delaying the moment when he would be punished again. But the voice yelled again, 'I ain't tellin' ya again, boy! Ya drag it out and it's only gonna be worse!' This time, dangerous impatience was added to the fury in its tone causing the boy/Glenn to tremble even more fiercely now, as he got up shakily to his feet.  
Glenn woke up, sniffling with wet eyes and grabbing for the pillows, the pain suddenly gone while Maggie stirred beside him but didn't wake up. However, she did instinctively tighten her hold around him where they lay snuggled together. He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. Maybe he could just ignore the dream but the boy's sobbing kept nagging at the back of his head, slowly becoming more and more unbearable like a drill boring a hole in his skull. It never stopped.  
Who was he kidding? He knew who it was and he also knew that wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight until he comforted the boy and made him stop crying. He thought dazedly, still less than half awake.

Make the boy stop sobbing in his head. If he could. But how? And he couldn't leave Maggie – what if she woke up and he wasn't there? She wouldn't panic at first – would probably only think he'd gone to use the bathroom behind the small door opposite but when he didn't come back...when she couldn't hear him...She'd think Walkers had got into the tower or that something had happened to him...

He tried to cover his ears with the pillow to block out the sound coming from inside his own head. At least he thought that's where it was coming from but the boy wouldn't stop his weeping.  
'Daryl...Shut up!' He hissed but the boy only cried louder behind his eyes.  
Was he going crazy? Why couldn't Maggie hear it? Why didn't she wake up? The increasingly panicky weepy sounds only got louder and louder until they seemed to reverberate off the walls. But she only murmured contently in her sleep – apparently she wasn't having nightmares about boys with black-eyes and torn shirts crying.

Right, that's it! He got up as quickly but quietly as he could, gently disengaging his wife's arm from around him and sighed with relief when she didn't wake up. Laid her arm back gently on the bed, gave her the pillow to cuddle instead of him. She accepted it easily and pulled it closer to her with a sigh of contentment. 'Be back soon.' He whispered, looking at her lying there. Looking so beautiful with her face bathed in moonlight. Like a fairy-queen...and he was tempted to kiss her full lips once more before he left.  
He heard the Dixons' laughter in his head then. Daryl's brother had always laughed at him for his slushy romanticism, even Daryl hadn't been beneath cracking a joke at the two love-birds. Daryl's sarcastic laughter was a welcome change from the endless weeping but it didn't last of course as the boy-Daryl started up that relentless crying again. Like a hammer lightly tapping his skull from the inside but there was no pain. This time even more urgently than before, prompting Glenn to whisper, 'I'm coming, Daryl! I'm coming! Hold on!' He hurriedly scribbled a note and left it for Maggie if she woke up and found the bed empty. He wrote a bland lie – of course – how could he tell her the truth? She'd think he was crazy.  
But right now his friend needed him more than her after everything he'd been through. She'd understand if she could believe it – he knew she would. She cared about Daryl too even if she'd never forgiven his brother.  
He grabbed his coat and ran down the stairs. Made his way over to the cell where he knew they were keeping Daryl. The first night he'd been back from Woodbury after Herschel had cleaned him up and checked him over. Given him something mild to calm him down and help him sleep. He didn't need much in his exhaustion. Was there anyone with him? Because he sensed that the last thing that Daryl wanted was to be alone but the others didn't understand! That even though he pushed them all away, he was terrified of having to face the memories and the tormenting voices in head by himself.

ii.  
Glenn

'How long's he been like this?' He turned on them – Rick, Herschel and Carol, standing outside Daryl's cell. The door was closed but they all could hear his sounds of distress that he was making in his sleep. Moaning and sobbing. They could hear him thrashing around on his bed and Glenn wondered that he didn't fall out onto the floor. Making the same noise Glenn had heard in his head in the tower and he wondered how that was possible. But he had just known and therefore, wasn't surprised.  
But the others were as they stared at him.  
'An hour – an hour and a half.'  
'What! And you just let him?' The Asian boy's voice rose in anger and disbelief at how they were neglecting his friend.  
Glenn rounded on Herschel next. 'Why don't ya give him something stronger to put him out?'  
The old man looked at him apologetically. 'We know they drugged him, don't know what they gave him though or how much and he couldn't tell us...I only gave him the mildest sedative in the lowest dose...to lower the risk. Drug interactions can be dangerous. I can't risk a big dose for at least another 48 hours at least.'  
Rick turned to him questioningly. 'Why ya here?'  
'He woke me up.'  
The leader furrowed his brows in confusion...and the other two looked baffled and Glenn brushed it off because he didn't really want to have to explain something that didn't make sense to him, even. And Daryl's moans of 'No, no, no, get the fuck off me!'  
He changed the subject instead. 'Ya jus' standin' out here? Why don't ya go in there?'  
'You know what he's like...he won't appreciate anyone in there with 'im, touchin' 'im after what they did.' Rick justified while Glenn looked at Carol like he couldn't believe it of her. 'Why didn't you go in – you're a woman, not a man- no threat and he trusts you.' He attacked her accusingly.  
Tears came into her eyes...'Glenn...later on, he didn't know any of us. He jus' saw the men who...who...' She broke down herself, rubbing her temples and Rick put his arm comfortingly around her. She leaned into his touch and sniffed, trying to get her emotions back under control.  
He realised then that they were suffering too and punishing themselves by making themselves stand outside his room and listen to his cries. To assauge their guilt. Worse - now, Daryl was calling for Merle but nobody knew where his brother was. Glenn secretly wondered if the older Dixon would be any help – he didn't think the brash, crude and insensitive redneck could help Daryl get over it. Probably he wouldn't want to tell his older brother and who could blame him? Glenn didn't like Merle not least because of what he'd done to him and Maggie. He prayed that he'd never come back – not only for their sake but for Daryl's sake. He would only end up damaging him even more – hell - would probably mock him for being a fag and wanting it in his insensitive attempts to bully him better. Glenn shivered at the thought . But Daryl obviously wanted his brother – that's why he was calling for him so insistently now.  
'I can't stand this. Maybe you all can, listening to him but I can't. Glenn glared round at them, uncharacteristically aggressive in defence of his fallen friend. 'I'm going in there.'  
'I don't think that's a good idea, son. Let's jus' let him tire himself out...' Herschel warned. 'He'll stop eventually...'  
Rick put a restraining hand against his chest to try and stop him going into the cell. 'He's right, Glenn. Ya'll scare 'im and he'll lash out. He's fragile psychologically but physically – ya know he could kill ya easily if he felt threatened. He's dangerous even after being half-starved and dehydrated. That's why...'  
'Dangerous?' Glenn scoffed, adding, 'Get off me.' Not letting him finish his sentence as he brushed past him rudely.  
'Glenn... I gotta tell ya somethin'...warn ya...' Herschel called after him but Glenn ignored him as he tore open the door. Wished he'd listened to the animal doctor at the sight that greeted his eyes.  
They let him go but followed him in to the room.  
'What did you do to him!' His voice rose in a fury they'd never seen before in the mild-mannered teen as he glared round at them and Rick was afraid that he wake up the muttering Dixon who had tears leaking down his cheeks from the , that wasn't quite true – Rick had seen him react like that to Merle in defence of Maggie when they'd freed the Dixons from Woodbury – from the forced death-fight.  
It seemed there was a lot more to the guy than most people gave him credit for.

iii.

Glenn rushed to Daryl's bedside to undo the velcro hand and foot restraints which had been presumably reserved for violent or mentally disturbed prisoners. No-one tried to stop him, just looked at him shamefacedly. The hunter didn't wake up but continued to moan and mutter and weep.  
'Did you know about this?' He lashed out, facing Carol.  
She sighed. 'Herschel didn't want to do it but it was for his own good...He was lashing out, thrashing around, wouldn't stay still...even after Herschel gave him the mild sedative. We couldn't put an IV into him because of it...He kept trying to get out of bed...'  
'Don't want to hear it.' Glenn hissed. 'Get out! All of you just get out!'  
'I don't think ya should be doin' that, son.' Herschel protested weakly as Glen undid the last foot strap.  
'See!' He turned around. He's not trying to get out, he's not being violent. Just get out, all of you!'  
Herschel tried one last time. 'But ...ya a man, son. And when he wakes up, he's gonna feel threatened...he'll associate you with the men at Woodbury...'  
'I know what I'm doing. Get out!'  
They left reluctantly. 'But we'll be jus' outside the door incase he...gets upset.' Rick reassured.  
'Don't bother.' Glenn replied coldly. 'He won't.'  
They closed the door behind them and Glenn was surprised how easy it was to convince them. Or maybe they were just waiting for someone to come who had the guts to deal with Daryl. Who cared enough about him.  
That was it, probably.  
Cowards. He thought. No matter Daryl had been distressed, tied up like that. He'd been chained up when they found him. He was still crying and moaning, varying his short repertoire, ''No, no, no, get the fuck off me!' He'd command or worse - more pitifully, 'Please, don't make me. I won't fuckin' do it!' or 'Don't touch me!' mixed with cries for his brother. 'Merle, Merle, please!'. Over and over again. It was a wonder that his voice wasn't hoarse. All the time, tears were sliding down his cheeks from his eye-lids and he was trembling, or more like shaking. Now that his limbs were free, he curled up into a ball on his side, kicking off the scratchy prison blankets. Glenn was pleased to see that he'd had a shower and a change of clothes – pyjamas no doubt that one of the others lent him – Dixons don't do nightwear. But he still didn't wake up or stop his moans or his words or his weeping. Still shaking. Sweating too – Glenn could see the shiny sheen on his face.

Glenn remembered when they found him. In the stinking cell, handcuffed loosely to a chain fixed to the wall. Just giving him enough range but not enough. Naked, covered in blood, cuts and bruises, filth and ...other substances. Too broken down to even try to cover himself up.  
Stinking of sex, piss, faeces, filth and...other substances. He was trembling with cold and fear.

'What the fuck...?' Rick had muttered. All of them instinctively covered up their nose and mouth with their clothes to ward off the stench.  
'What did they do to him?' Maggie and Andrea, despite her own battered and weak condition, burst into tears when they saw him but looked away at the next to spare his dignity. Rick had clearly been shaken. He was bruised and battered – clearly unable to recognise them, staring at him blankly. No doubt thinking that they were the Governor's men come to haul him before him again.  
They saw him clench his fists and snarl ready to fight. He was still not beaten down, not going easily.  
'Looks like they did everythin'.' Rick answered shakily, looking everywhere but down at Daryl. 'Come on, let's get him.'  
Luckily, the ex-cop had some experience of dealing with this kind of thing – victims of assault and other trauma like traffic accidents. 'Get him a blanket!' He ordered to them over his shoulder.  
'Where's the key?'

Maggie handed it to him – the big bunch they'd got from one of the guards they'd taken out when they'd rescued Andrea. They were all hoping that one of them would fit. He approached his former second-in-command warily. Daryl lunged forward as far as his chains would allow, baring his teeth.  
He was getting ready to bite, looking less like a feral wolf than a man. Not caring about or unaware of his nakedness in front of the women.  
Glenn moved forward too but Rick waved him back. 'Let me. Don't want to overwhelm him with too many people at once.  
'Daryl.' Rick addressed him softly, not daring to get within his range until he'd made him recognise them and realise that they were going to rescue him. He was the professional – he had to get through to Daryl.  
Daryl just snarled in reply, no words.  
'Oh Jesus, Jesus!' Rick ignored Andrea's wailing in the background. 'Can he still talk?'  
'Daryl.' The ex-cop repeated softly. 'It's me Rick and here is Glenn. You remember them, don't ya?' He deliberately didn't mention the women, Michonne unlike the others hadn't turned away. Was staring intently at the Dixon, unabashed at his nakedness and swaying to and fro on her feet. Backing up the leader because even chained up, he was a considerable threat. He could still use his teeth and looked like he was more than ready to sink them into Rick. He used them on the guards when they'd first begun to torture him.  
Something glimmered in Daryl's eyes but then it sank beneath the surface of his murky blue eyes, out of sight.  
'Come on, Daryl. You remember us.'  
'Rick?' Something had snapped inside him then and Daryl looked up at him. Eyes full of human intelligence.  
'Daryl...we ain't got time. Ya gotta come with us...now.'  
Finally sure that it was safe to, Rick got down to Daryl's level, to appear less threatening and took his face into his hands. Of course, Daryl jerked away despite Rick crooning to him, 'It's OK. It's me, Rick. We're gonna get you outta here.' The prisoner seemed to have visibly shrunk and always having been lean but muscular, Rick could swear he could count every rib now. His face was sunken and his terror-filled eyes, too big for his thin face . His goose-pimpled skin was covered in more shallow cuts as if someone had been torturing him with a knife to deliberately complement the old ones on his back. Along with the almost invisible childhood knife scars on his chest that he never wanted anyone to see.  
Daryl had merely started shaking as he looked down at the filthy concrete floor, not meeting anyone's eyes in shame. And Rick found he couldn't blame him as he looked down on him in overwhelming disgust that he was unable to suppress that he tried not to show on his face. But he eventually went limp, allowing Rick to fumble with the keys until he found the right one.  
'We haven't got time for this.' Glenn looked back at the interrogation door anxiously. All around them they could hear sounds of chaos, screaming, weapon fire.  
Maggie had handed him the blanket and they'd looked away as he discreetly wrapped it around him. It easily fully concealed his wasted frame. He seemed to recognise them now but strangely, seemed reluctant to leave.  
'Can't leave...can never leave 'im. He says he'll kill everybody in the prison if I try to leave...if I fight back.' He looked up at him then, tentative hope in his eyes while he shook with terror and his chest heaved rapidly as he breathed shallow breaths in and out. His eyes darting around, here and there in panic as if expecting his tormentors to come out of the very walls, the dim corners.  
Rick was trying to be patient but it was difficult even though he really didn't want to traumatise him further.  
'Please...please don't make me..people'll get hurt...he's got Merle and he's gonna kill 'im...Think about Carl and Judith, Rick. Carol...Beth...Herschell... ' The Dixon's voice was wavering as he pleaded with Rick and his eyes filled with terror but focused on something else. Somewhere else. He broke down then and started to sob for his brother, sounding so pitifully young.  
'Daryl...The Governor's dead and he never had Merle. Don't ya think he would have enjoyed using you more against each other in his sick games if he had?' Michonne piped up. Daryl seemed to believe her calm tone and dried his tears. 'He was just messing with your head.' She added and he nodded. His eyes widened as he realised that it was obvious and under normal circumstances he would have come to the same conclusion. It was obvious. If he hadn't been so worn down and exhausted, physically as well as psychologically. He didn't even care at that moment that he'd broken down and cried for Merle in front of them when everybody knows that Dixons don't cry. He felt shame and self-disgust at how they'd found him – why couldn't it have just been Rick or better- his brother?  
'We killed 'im. Ya don't have to be afraid of 'im no more.' Maggie turned back to him now that he was kind of decent.  
The Dixon bristled at that and snarled back, sounding much more like himself, 'Ain't scared of that sick fuck or his men. Should'a been me to put the sick bastard down.' Glenn and Maggie exchanged looks at the deliberate contradiction to his earlier words. At the sharp turnaround. 'Who was it?'  
'Good. Then let's go.' Rick turned without answering his question, leading the way. 'Can ya walk?'  
Daryl snarled 'yes' and nodded but it turned out that he had to reluctantly accept help from the young couple either side of him because Rick needed to scout the way ahead and make sure it was clear. Michonne had to support Andrea who was too weak to walk unaided.  
'Fuck.' The Dixon growled in frustration at the weakness in his body after days of virtual starvation and minimal drinking-water.  
Luckily, the way was clear back to their truck. It seemed like the citizens of Woodbury were no longer concerned with them now that their Beloved Leader was dead. His henchmen who had survived were probably busy elsewhere. Fighting for their lives against the enraged citizens who didn't agree with their former Master's methods.  
All around they heard gunfire and screams. Woodbury was burning – who had set the fires – they didn't know.

Woodbury was finished.  
It was over. But not for everyone.

iii  
Glenn

Glenn looked down at him, not sure what to do. Daryl hadn't liked being touched before and now he'd also apparently had physical contact and sexual acts forced upon him as well.  
What do I do if he wakes up and attacks me because he doesn't recognise me? He nearly chickened out then and left the room.  
He do this – he'd do this for his friend when none of Daryl's so-called family would even risk their necks. Just because they didn't have the courage to deal with him.

Mainly he was too painful to look at and reminded them of how easily they'd let him go. Let his brother take him without a fight.

'Daryl?' Glenn whispered, hoping to wake him but he realised that he was too drugged up for to ask him for permission but he never opened his eyes but they were streaming tears down his face. The front of his striped pyjama top was soaking wet from them and a mixture of sweat. He'd been weeping for hours, it looked like.  
'I'm going to get in the bed with you, that OK?' Glenn felt he should ask but Daryl kept right on mumbling, didn't react.  
'It's not like that, you know I don't like you like that, don't you? ' He joked. 'I'm a married man now. Shame you missed the wedding. I bet Merle would have really enjoyed the free booze and food.'  
Glenn felt foolish as he chuckled at his own lame jokes as he drew back the covers and drew them back over them but Daryl had fallen silent, after sighing deeply before he resumed whimpering and moaning again to himself.  
'Was wondering how the two of us were going to fit in this tiny cot – but you've lost weight and I'm small so I can just about squeeze in, I guess.' Daryl sighed again and fell silent. Glenn was right- just having someone there he trusted talking to him in his sleep appeared to soothe him. The others had been wrong or maybe Glenn was the right person who Daryl could trust. He was small and skinny, probably the least threatening of all the men. As if to confirm his thoughts, he heard the footsteps of those holding vigil outside the door die away.  
'See – they didn't need to tie you up. You're OK.' Glenn was gratified to hear the younger Dixon's quiet snores as he finally fell into a restful sleep.  
He turned his back to him and tried to fall asleep until he was woken up what felt like moments later. Daryl was thrashing around, his eyes closed. 'Don't! Don't! Get off me.' He pleaded.  
Glenn grabbed his arms, tried to hold him still in his grip but the Dixon proved too strong for him and was soon free again.  
'Sh...sh...'  
'No!' Daryl screamed. 'Daddy – don't do that - it hurts!'  
Daddy? Daryl was dreaming about his Daddy? Not the Governor? The people closest to him knew about his abusive childhood although he never spoke about it.  
Daryl continued to scream and moan, tears streaming down his face. Now he was crying for his brother again, 'Merle! Merle!'. Getting louder.  
'DARYL!' Glenn was afraid that the others would rush in if he kept it up for much longer and he'd have to admit they were right and he really hated to do that. What he hated even more, however, was the thought of them restraining Daryl again. He couldn't believe they had done that.  
'IT'S ME, GLENN!' He whispered as loudly as he could into his ear without waking the others if Daryl hadn't already done that.  
Daryl opened his eyes then but looked through him and Glenn gasped in surprise. But the hunter was looking through him like he was seeing a ghost when Glenn thought he'd recognised him at first.  
'Merle?' He asked so tentatively hopefully. 'That you, Merle?' Sounding like the young boy he must have been once. The bruised and battered and burned young boy in Glenn's dream who wasn't Glenn but somehow was and also Daryl at the same time. He realised that somehow, he'd seen a mere glimpse of the hunter's childhood – that it was a memory rather than a mere dream.  
Glenn considered telling him the truth but his tone was so wistful, he really was missing his big brother and he didn't seem to see Glenn there at all.  
'Yes, it's me Merle.' He lied. Knowing that his relatively high-pitched voice and his accent couldn't be more different fromt the older Dixon's gravelly Southern drawl.  
Daryl sighed with relief at that, shut his eyes and curled into him. Rested his head against Glenn's chest and fell silent. 'They hurt me, Merle. Hurt me real bad.' He shuddered then and sounded on the verge of tears again as he mumbled this into Glenn's side. 'After...they finished...with me, they...they... pissed on me and ...and ...did other things all over me.' He started to sob then, making the teenager felt like his heart was breaking for his friend who was speaking more delicately about painful subjects than he would have expected from a Dixon. He could feel him shaking against him. Glenn tried his best to think of what Merle would say in this situation but honestly – couldn't think of anything.  
'Sh...sh. Ya safe, ya safe. I've got you now.' But he was thinking: Fuck! What do I do now? He thinks I'm his brother but it seems to calm him down. Do I try and comfort him? What would Merle do?  
He tried gripping his arms to still him but that was obviously was the wrong thing to do as Daryl bucked and immediately jerked out of hold. Idiot! Glenn cursed himself. He'd seen bruises there where they must have pinned him down.  
'Sh...sh...Sorry.' He whispered. 'I'm not going to hurt you.'  
Daryl snorted as if he didn't believe anyone could hurt him but he did relax again. Yet, he still didn't wake up.  
Glenn couldn't for the life of him imagine Merle comforting anybody. So he did what Glenn would do. Put his arms loosely around him, giving him plenty of room to move so that he didn't feel trapped or pinned down. Stroked his hair with one hand. Did Merle ever stroke Daryl's hair? Glenn didn't think so. Yet, it felt nice, cuddling up with the normally fierce and physically unapproachable hunter like he'd always wanted but had never been allowed to. Nevertheless, he could tell that Daryl liked what he did even in his sleep because he made a pleased sound in his closer to him when he did that and his breathing became regular.

What if he wakes up and finds me here in bed with him in the morning? Panics...and kills me? Herschell said that he would have problems trusting any man – even us he knows – at first.  
Even though he could snap my neck like a twig under normal circumstances.  
Glenn hadn't needed to worry, he did eventually doze off and seeing Daryl sleeping peacefully before dawn broke and no danger of nightmares or bad childhood memories resurfacing, he gently disengaged himself from him. So that he barely noticed in his sleep. Got out of bed and went back to the tower. Got back in bed and cuddled up with Maggie instead. Luckily, she hadn't woken up and noticed his absence.

So both sides were happy and he smiled as he fell asleep, the horror of the condtion they'd found Daryl in and what had happened to him fading a little from his mind.

He also knew that they had to get Merle back- even though he was the last living person on Earth that he and Maggie ever wanted to see 'd do it for Daryl because instinctively, he knew that Merle could help his brother get over Woodbury. Glenn made a note to tell Rick when he woke up to Maggie hitting him over the head with a pillow, laughing 'Wake up, Lazy Bones!'. Maybe she would even want to make love before breakfast like they often did. He always slept longer than her – well, he teased her - he was the one who was still a teenager. She'd slap him back playfully for that.  
But then probably she wouldn't- nobody would be in a cheerful mood because of what had happened to Daryl.

Nevertheless, for the first time since they'd rescued Daryl 24 hours ago, Glenn felt hope.


	5. Chapter 5

TTWH 5

i.

Glenn

The second night, he would sneak off, leaving a note for Maggie explaining that Daryl needed him and crawl into the Dixon's bed. Glenn felt guilty for leaving his wife but it wasn't like he was cheating on her and while she would never forgive his brother, he knew that she cared about him. After all, she'd cried when they'd found him and would do anything to help him. She'd understand, he told himself.

Herschel told him that he was worse at night – he'd toss and turn – dreaming about his father or those men. During the day he dozed, kept drugged by Herschel.

'How long are you going to be keep him drugged up like that?' Glenn asked the vet.

'Until he's calm and his wounds heal up some.'

Carol was feeding him what they could and make sure he drank water when the sedatives began to wear off and he was semi-conscious.

So Glenn slipped in, just to keep him company. Daryl was already tossing and turning, muttering. 'Don't. Get the fuck off me...I ain't doin' it...I'm gonna fuckin' end ya.' He snarled viciously and Glenn couldn't tell if he was dreaming of his Daddy or those men but at least he wasn't moaning or crying. Sounded stronger, almost like his normal self. 'Don't touch me!'

But then he whimpered. 'Daddy! No!' Tears started leaking down from his closed eyelids.

'Sh...Sh.' He bent down to stroke his hair.

'No! No!...Get off me.' Glen immediately jerked his hand away. 'Daddy, don't.' He pleaded.

'It's OK, it's OK...' Glenn got in the narrow cot with him, 'I'm here.' He whispered and put his arms around him, carefully making sure that he didn't pin him down or restrict his movements in any way because that seemed to set off the panic. 'Sh...sh...It's OK...It's OK..' He soothed but curious, he gently lifted up the other man's shirt - no striped pyjamas this time - with one hand and saw the cuts and bruises healing there.

_'Sick bastards_.' He hissed in shock, hoping Daryl didn't hear his outraged outburst though he'd been there when they rescued him and he knew about them already. Glenn gently tugged the shirt back down again. The Dixon seemed to sense his presence, even in his sleep and it seemed to start to calm him down.

'Merle?' The Dixon's voice was soft, wistful this time.

'Yeah, it's me, Merle.' Glenn lied. 'I got you.'

Daryl growled ferally but then sighed shudderingly and went limp.

Glenn held him and moved his hand through his hair until he settled down.

It was kind of cosy like sharing a bed with a sibling when you were young. Reminded Glenn of getting into bed with his older sister when he had bad dreams – when he was four or five. He felt that pang of grief then because he didn't know where she was or even if she was still alive even though he had a wife now. Zoe'd been working in Atlanta but then the city had been one of the first Southern cities to fall. After a time, the teenager fell asleep himself.

….

Shortly after, he woke up with a start. Found himself pinned to the bed, someone's hands around his throat. Squeezing.

'D...Daryl...' He instinctively started scrabbling at the choking fingers.

The Dixon shook his head and the burning rage began to fade from his eyes.

Glenn felt like he was on the verge of blacking out as the other held him down in a grip of iron.

'Please...I can't breathe.'

The older man let him go with a grunt. Seemed to come back to himself, shook his head. 'Sorry.' He apologised gruffly like he wasn't used to saying the word. 'Thought ya were...' He shuddered. 'It don't matter now more. But what the fuck ya doin' in here, anyways?'

'You were...were...' Glenn gasped, trying to get his breath back.

Daryl snorted. 'What?' His tone dangerous warning the other to be careful.

'Nightmares.'

Daryl dropped his gaze. Glenn touched his arm. He let it stay.

'You didn't want to be alone.' He tried to explain.

'Go back to sleep.' The Dixon ordered and turned his back to him and closed his eyes. 'And don't keep me awake with ya snorin' like a fuckin' steam-train.' Unseen by Glenn, a small smile played around his lips.

_At least he didn't order me to go_._ Maybe he was glad of the company and not worried that we look like homosexuals_. Glenn was glad that he let him stay but he knew that as soon as his friend was safely asleep, he was going to go back to his wife. But Glenn didn't know that when Daryl asleep again there were no more bad dreams. In fact he dreamt a comforting one of running in the meadow with his brother when they were boys. Merle giving him a headstart until he caught up with him and bowled him over. Tickling his belly until he cried for mercy.

'I'm coming back for ya, Little Darlena. Know ya in trouble.' Merle whispered in his ear, his unshaved cheek tickling his ear until Daryl squirmed against him and he laughed. 'And I ain't ever leavin' ya again, baby brother.'

….

ii.

Merle

Later, after he came back and found his little brother again, Merle wish it had been him. He knew he could have taken it – whatever the sick fucks had done to him. But Daryl – it wasn't like he was weak or anything – in fact, he was one of the strongest men Merle had ever known. Yet it wasn't like he would have known how to deal with it. At least Merle had fucked a man before - he was pretty sure that Daryl hadn't. Merle didn't see himself as gay or even bi - a fuck was just a fuck and in prison, it had just been a matter of necessity.

And before...? The question loomed large and ugly in the forefront of his mind. But he shoved it away.

He didn't allow himself to dwell on the past.

Merle hated how fragile his baby brother looked. His blue eyes huge and haunted and far too big for his face, looking up at him from his chest where his big brother was cradling him. As usual of late, he had both arms wrapped around him protectively.

Merle kissed the top of his hair. Let his arms rub the top of Daryl's in soothing circles until he felt him slump against him. Feeling him relax, he kept his hands were they were, doing the same thing. After a while, he lowered them slightly, towards his elbows but still rubbing his arms in the same circular pattern.

Lower and lower until his hands were hovering hip-height over the belt of Daryl's pants.

Merle hesitated, not quite daring to do what he longed for even with Daryl practically comatose in bliss, eyes closed in tranquility.

Clearly, his little brother trusted him.

Slowly, very slowly Merle reached under his brother's shirt to caress the skin on his stomach. To feel the rough scars under his fingertips made there long ago by their Daddy's knife. Told himself he only wanted to _feel _them. Same ones he had on him.

Got him thinking about the more recent scars from _him _and the other sick fucks, making him clench his teeth. They'd taunted and tormented him about their Daddy and what he'd done to him – Merle could just see them do it. He vowed that he was going to hunt them all down and make them pay.

Daryl apparently wasn't that relaxed because he jerked awake immediately. Grabbed his brother's hands and ripped them away from him. Like he was the devil.

'What the fuck, _Merle_!' He leapt up. 'What the fuck ya doin'?'

'Nothin', sweet brother.'

'Ya _touchin'_ me again? What the fuck's wrong with ya?'

'I didn't do nothin'. Calm the fuck down.'

'Ya as sick as he was.'

Now fully awake and having been rudely ripped from his trance where he didn't have to think about those men, the Governor or his Daddy – in fact, he hadn't thought about anything at all. Not while Merle was touching him, making him feel safe – well, safe most times.

He rounded furiously on his brother because something had been nagging at him and he needed to know.

'They said...when they...they were...'

'What did they say, baby brother? Ya know they were probably jus' fuckin' with ya head, don't ya?'

'Did you ...fuck the prisoners too? Men and... women?'

'What? Ya askin' me if I joined in rapin' them?' Merle laughed but it sounded fake even to his ears. He reached out to drag his brother back down to him.

'Ya did, didn't ya?' Now Daryl was trembling and fighting to get out of his arms. 'Get the fuck off me...Ya no better than _them_.'

Merle shook his head mournfully and let him go. 'I swear on Mama's grave, I didn't do none of that shit...'

'Ya one sick fuck for lyin' on _her _grave. Ya think I'm an idiot?'

'OK.' Merle shrugged his shoulders. 'I did somethings I ain't proud of. But they would have turned on me if I hadn't.'

'Ya a sick motherfucker, _bro_. Rick's right for not wantin' you here among decent folks.'

'Ya tellin' me ya wouldn't have, if ya had been in my place?'

'No, I fuckin' wouldn't have!' Daryl yelled in his face and stormed out the tent.


	6. Chapter 6

TTWH 6

**What is Merle's secret and will Daryl ever forgive him for the things he did at Woodbury? **_**Should **_**he forgive him?**

i.

Merle had flinched inwardly but his smug smile hid it at the contempt and disgust with which Daryl had regarded him. He knew what he'd done was despicable but it wasn't like he would act like that normally. Just the pack mentality of the Governor's men had taken him over momentarily. So he reasoned with himself.

Desperate to make things right again, he cornered his brother at the makeshift canteen tent.

Put his hand on his arm but Daryl violently shrugged it off. 'Get off me. Ya disgustin'.'

'Ya gonna tell the others?' He hissed in reply, looking around nervously. 'Ya want me to leave, that it?'

Daryl looked down. 'What do ya think I am? Think I want everyone to know what my brother did? They'd look down on us even more than they already do!' Some of the group turned around to look at the raised voices but it wasn't like seeing the Dixons fighting wasn't a frequent sight.

'Keep ya fuckin' voice down.'

Daryl started to stalk off back into the forest, obviously wanting time alone to eat and apparently wanting to get away from his big brother. He was already scooping up the deer stew in one spoon and shovelling it into his mouth rapidly ase he walked.

Merle followed him even when his brother turned around and glared at him but he didn't tell him to go away.

'Glad to see ya got ya appetite back, little brother.'

Daryl gave him a filthy look but didn't say anything.

When they were out of earshot and sight of the others who probably just assumed that they were going off hunting or to work out their differences, Daryl threw down his empty bowl and rounded on him.

'Ya sick, ya know that? If ya had been high and not...not recognised me, ya would have ….have ….joined in, wouldn't ya? Don't deny it, ya sick fuck.'

'Look, Daryl, I never did that before. Never hurt a woman before I met _him. _Never even fuckin' killed no-one before this whole thing went down.'

'You and Dad always called me a pussy but ya know – ya the biggest pussy of 'em all. Couldn't say ''No''...'

Merle's eyes filled with a dark rage and old pain as he grabbed his brother by the throat and slammed him hard against the tree. 'They would have killed me or worse – made _me _into their slut if I had refused. Didn't have no choice was outnumbered. 'Sides, ya don't know nothin' 'bout it. What I fuckin' did for ya when we were kids.' He abruptly changed the subject.

Daryl rolled his eyes as he struggled to get free. Merle had him by the throat but he wasn't choking him.

'Not this again. Ya didn't do nothin' for me.'

'At least they were fuckin' adults!'

Daryl stopped struggling. 'What?'

'I fuckin' wasn't!' Merle screamed, going red.

'What the fuck ya talkin' about, Merle?' Daryl was getting worried now. Thinking maybe it was just his brother fucking with his head as usual. Trying to make him feel sorry for him and take him back.

'He...he...did it to me instead of you.' Daryl thought he was dreaming when he heard the tremble in his brother's voice.

'What?'

'Dad.' Merle's mouth twisted as he answered quietly.

'Ya fuckin' lyin', get off me.' Merle released him and took a few steps back. 'That's the sickest thing to come outta ya mouth yet, ya twisted asshole.'

'No...it's true. Didn't ever want to tell ya this. But he never touched ya, did he?'

'No, of course not! He was a violent bastard but he wasn't _perverted_.'

Merle smiled with relief . 'Well, he was with me. Always wondered about ya – how ya nearly jump outta ya skin if someone so much as brushes ya arm. But none of it matters 'cos I did save ya after all.'

Daryl managed to get free. 'Don't fuckin' believe ya. Ya jus' sayin' this to make me feel sorry for ya so I forgive you. Even if ya tellin' the truth, knowin' what ya did, ya still left me with him?...Yeah, right.'

'I didn't had no choice. I was gonna kill him...or he kill me. Just had to hope the bastard kept his promise – was a Dixon after all.'

Daryl stared at the single tear that was making its way down one of his brother's cheeks. _Since when did Merle cry? Merle never cried_. Daryl had never seen him shed one tear, not even at Mama's funeral and it terrified him. That single bead of moisture clinched it for him and he believed Merle as he reached out to to rub it away gently with his thumb and bowed his own head.

'How old?' Daryl's voice was dull, not looking up.

'Look...ya weren't ever supposed to know...'

'I asked 'How old!'' Daryl snapped.

'Don't remember 'zactly. Maybe 11...or...12 'til 15...16. 'Till I got big enough to fight him off.'

'Fuck!' Daryl slid down the tree and crouched down, wrapping his arms around his knees, hunched over. Trembling not for himself this time but his brother.

'And Mama never knew?' He asked shakily.

'Don't think so. He did it when she weren't a sly bastard. I did it for you, little brother. 'Cos he said if I didn't let him, he'd do it to you 's how much I fuckin' love ya.'

'No...no..Not for me!' Daryl screamed, shaking his head. 'Why you and not me?'

Merle crouched down, got on eye-level with him. Eyes hard and glittering.

'Look at ya, Darlena. Still more fucked-up than me.' He tried to joke, diffuse the tension. Laugh it off.

Daryl gave him a hard shove, nearly knocking him over backwards but his next words were full of tears.

'Ya knew what it felt like then. Still don't make it right what ya did.' He pressed his forehead into his knees. What had happened in Woodbury was still raw although he felt day by day that he was getting a grip on the memories. But now – his brother's revelation – no – all of his revelations just wore him down again as his shoulders started to shake. The thought of his brother going through what he'd endured from the Governor for mere days for _years _and when he was just a kid and at the hands of their own father was too much for him.

Despite his determination to never forgive Merle, Daryl found that he couldn't stop trembling and his breath hitching in his chest when he thought about how he must have suffered. Unbidden, other memories he'd suppressed started to come to the surface. Things he'd forgotten and had been to young to piece together at the time. Stumbling on their father and his brother in the bath together – when he got up to pee - their dad guiltily getting off from on top of him even though Merle had been a teenager – at least 13 or 14.

Other stuff – like seeing his brother's bloody underwear on his floor and how Merle had often winced slightly when he sat down after a 'punishment'. Daryl had just assumed he'd just been spanked hard on the ass.

'Ya cryin' for me, baby brother?'

'No! Fuck you, why would I cry for a perverted piece of shit like you?' Daryl lashed out at him viciously.

Yet another unbidden recollection of Dad fondling Merle discreetly – one hand down his flies while his brother stared straight ahead at the TV like nothing was happening. Daryl must have only been about 4 or 5 at that time – their Daddy must have felt safe because he was too young to understand what was going on. Also, Mama was upstairs having one of her baths with a large glass of wine which they knew always took her at least a couple of hours.

He shook his head, wondering how many of the resurfaced memories were true.

He feared - all of them and there were many more to come. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle suddenly coming together to form a picture the more pieces you had down.

'What happened to ya ain't an excuse for ya doin' it to others.'

Daryl was pretty sure he hadn't tried that shit with him. Pretty sure – considering he knew sometimes people repressed memories for years.

But then he suddenly softened. 'O God, _Merle_ – I'm remembering all this shit about you and him...'When the sobs started to rip through his body and he couldn't hold them back any longer, he said quietly, 'I ...I ...do believe ya,...brother.' That's when Merle knew that he had forgiven him. In fact, it proved that Daryl would forgive him anything and even though it was Merle who should be crying but couldn't, he wrapped his arms around his baby brother. Stroked his hair and drew him to him after only a little initial resistance. So Daryl cried for him instead and Merle _comforted _him.

'Never wanted ya to know, baby brother. Didn't want ya to have to carry around my shit, too.' Merle kissed his tears away before pressing his lips to his forehead. 'Don't cry for me I ain't worth it. Ya know what I did under that psycho. But I did everythin' to protect ya, little Darlena and it still happened to ya just 'cos this fuckin' worthless world ended. Nothin's changed. Not for people like us.'

'Ain't true, Merle.' Daryl's breath hitched as he managed to rein his emotions back in. Looked up at him with such innocent hope. 'People like us got another chance. Jus' gotta get along with the group, is all.'

'Ya were always the sweet one. Don't know what I did all those years without ya.'

Merle kissed the top of his brother's head because he was so relieved that Daryl still loved him and wanted him around, despite the despicable things he'd done that he was willing to do _anything_ for him.

_Anything_. He'd change for his baby brother. Become a better man. A_ good_ man.

'I'll do anythin' to make up for it. Ya know, when I make myself remember what I did – I feel like shit. Like he took the worst out of me and left nothin' left. Not that I'm makin' excuses, mind – layin' it all on him but the Governor had a knack for bringing out the worst in people.'

Daryl nodded – remembering the ordinary townspeople baying for his and Merle's blood like some starving pack of wolves. 'I'll do anythin' - even try to get along with those assholes ya seem to like so much.' His brother continued.

'Don't fuckin' call them that.' Daryl punched his arm – only half-playfully this time.

'Come on.' He told Merle.'We got go and get their dinner if ya still serious about getting' along with them. 'Ya'd be surprised how more understandin' and forgivin' people become once they got their bellies full.' Daryl slung his crossbow over his back and his big brother followed him into the undergrowth.

.


	7. Chapter 7

TTWH 7

i.

Glenn

It was six weeks since they'd rescued Daryl and day by day, they could see him getting slowly better. A long way off yet from where he'd been before, yet he was flinching less, eating more – Merle hardly ever needed to coax him to eat a full plate now. The nightmares and bad dreams came less frequently now and Herschel marvelled that he was apparently recovering from his ordeal so quickly. Even though Glenn would never forgive Merle for delivering Maggie to the Governor, even if he forgave him, and the older Dixon was creepy as hell, they'd all been surprised how he took over taking care of Daryl. Seemed somehow to be making him better, speeding up the healing process. So they tolerated Merle for Daryl's sake. Glenn missed comforting Daryl at night, he'd told Maggie what he'd done and she'd smiled, letting him know that she understood. Besides, he'd always been back in the morning when she woke up and she'd been none the wiser.

Maggie had said that she hoped that Merle would go after Daryl's attackers – if they were still alive somewhere after they burnt down Woodbury and killed the Governor and get himself killed. But he'd replied, 'What about Daryl?'.

She'd shrugged, 'We don't know what the bastard did in Woodbury, remember he was second in command to that psycho, probably joined in raping the prisoners too.'

'We don't know that for sure.' He found himself defending Daryl's brother for some inexplicable reason.

'You on Merle's side?' She asked incredously. 'After what he did to me? To us?'

'I'm not on anyone's side! I just want what's best for Daryl. And you would too, if you really cared about him.'

That got her and she drew back. 'Of course, I do.'

'Well, just put up with Merle. He never bothers us and Daryl says he's sorry and wants to make up for everything.'

'Uh OK. And what if he's a threat? You seen the way he is with Daryl – it gives me the creeps! It's like ….like...' She shuddered, unable to put her thought into words.

'Well, he was held and gang-raped for days! Of course, he's gonna be different with him after that. Besides, that's their business. Daryl can handle him and we need them to protect the group.' Glenn told her. 'Time to put our differences aside.'

ii.

It was dinner round the campfire – the Dixons had caught a deer that day so everyone filled up on venison stew. Daryl was yawning because the Dixons had been up before the crack of dawn to track the big buck, when Merle whispered 'Let's go. I got a treat to cheer ya up back in our tent' in his ear. Daryl gave a small smile that cheered his brother to see as he pushed Merle's arms away from him where they were wrapped around him protectively as usual since the rapes and got to his feet. ''Night, folks.' He said and the others returned his greeting. Merle grinned around at everybody but got no response before he followed his brother back to their tent.

'Lookee, what I got.' Merle drew out the big bottle of handmade booze once they were inside while Daryl's eyes lit up at the sight of it.'Didn't want to share with the rest of the group – all the more for us, hey, little brother?'

'No, guess not.' Daryl turned away but Merle smirked. Knew his brother was playing hard to get with the booze.

'If ya want it, baby boy, ya gonna have to come and get it.'

'Fuck off. I ain't no alchoholic like _him_.' Daryl snarled. 'Can go without.'

Merle chuckled at the mind games they were playing. 'Suit yaself.' He unscrewed it and tantalisingly slowly, tipped it into his mouth. 'Mmmm...Fuck – some good moonshine, bro. Might even make me go blind. Would ya like that? ' He laughed.

Daryl had turned his back to him stubbornly but Merle could see he was cracking. They hadn't had a decent drink for months.

'Ooh...what a kick. This is the real stuff, Darlena! Sure ya don't want some?'

'Give it 'ere.' Merle smirked as Daryl grabbed the bottle and ripped it from him. Put his arm around his little brother as he gulped down large swallows of the stuff.

'Careful – don't choke yaself.' Merle took the bottle away from him while Daryl growled. He hadn't nearly finished!

Merle smoothed back Daryl's hair as he took large swigs before he handed it back to him.

'Easy.'

When most of the bottle was gone, Daryl slumped back. 'That was some potent shit.' He sighed but immediately reached for it again.

'Uh …uh...huh!' Merle told him and teasingly put it out of reach behind him.

'Fuck ya, Merle. Give it me.'

Merle laughed and brushed back a stray strand from his baby brother's forehead.

'Come and get it.'

'Fuck off!'

Merle chuckled and beckoned to him with a crook of his finger. Daryl lunged for the bottle but Merle got in his way. They growled and wrestled, somehow without knocking it over and Daryl ended up underneath him.

Merle saw the fear flicker in his eyes and heard his breath hitch, knowing what memories it must bring back to him being pinned down, he got off him. 'Only playin', little brother, only playin'. '

'Fuck you.' Daryl snarled, embarrassed about his moment of weakness and lunged at him. The bottle got knocked over, spilling its contents all over the tent floor but neither paid heed to it.

Before Merle knew it, _Daryl _was on top of him and pressing his lips to his. Thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Merle moaned and returned the kiss just as hungrily before they drew back for air. 'Wha...what the fuck ya doin', baby brother?' Even though Merle had dreamt of this moment – Daryl making the first move, Daryl willing - ever since he could remember.

Daryl threw back his head and laughed. 'I seen the way ya been lookin' at me, _brother_. What ya want but I never gave you. Why ya hold me so tight – ain't jus' cos' of what happened to me..'

Merle frowned and shook him by the shoulders. 'That's sick. We're brothers.'

'So? I want it and you want it. Most of all, I want ya to make me forget. _Them_ and what they did.'

Daryl's mouth twisted and he started to slyly stroke his brother's crotch. '_Please, Merle_. Make me forget.'

'Please. Please.' His pleas and the sweet desperation in his eyes made something in Merle's chest twist – where his heart was. Merle moaned as Daryl kept touching him, teasing him before he took his hand away abruptly.

'Ya sure ya really want this and it ain't jus' the drink talkin'?' Merle felt he had to make sure first.

Daryl smirked. Started stripping his clothes off while licking his lips and pouting at his older brother. Merle could hold back no longer as he grabbed him and pushed him to the canvas floor.

Daryl started struggling and making whimpering sounds and he knew he had changed his mind. Got off him immediately but then he turned himself back onto his back to look up at him and Merle saw that he was laughing! Not scared at all but mocking him! He was excited! He'd been writhing on the floor, not struggling and his whimpers had been of ones of excitement, not fear or pain.

'What ya waiting for, _big brother_?' He smirked up at him. Want and fire in his eyes.

'Right, that's it ya little shit. Ya want it, ya gonna get it.' Merle started to undress him hurriedly, yanking down his pants and underwear before undoing his own flies.

'Come here.' He grasped him by the hips and pulled him to him. Stroked his back soothingly, not wanting Daryl to suddenly get scared and back out. '_Merle _ain't gonna hurt ya, only gonna make ya forget those sick fucks.'

Daryl trembled -muscles rippling under his skin and Merle hissed. 'Fuck, ya so beautiful. Gonna make ya feel real good, baby brother.' He kissed the back of his neck then, making him whimper and shiver with pleasure. ' I always wanted ya but held back...'

Daryl grabbed his hand. 'Well, then, what the fuck ya waitin' for?'

Merle looked around for the small tub of grease that always came handy in these situations before he...

….

Woke up with a shout. Heart thumping in his chest. Nearly knocking over the bottle of illegal booze that still had about a third in it.

_What the fuck? _He patted around him and found Daryl who snarled – still half asleep. At least they both had their clothes on which would suggest...Merle didn't finish that thought.

'Fuck...ya woke me up.' He growled, reluctantly opening his eyes. 'Head's thumpin'.'

'Jus' a bad dream, little brother. Ain't light yet – go back to sleep.'

'_You_ have bad dreams?' Daryl cursed him before he turned over, muttering angrily at being disturbed. Merle guessed he was feeling pretty sick from the moonshine – looked like they'd polished off most of it.

He couldn't get back to sleep and he felt OK besides the sick dream about almost fucking his baby brother and _Daryl wanting it_, he was horny as hell. He knew he'd have to take care of it – one way or another but he had an idea. He felt like a shit – as sick as their Dad. Maybe the sickness was genetic – inherited, in any case he was glad that Daryl had been spared it.

He'd done that for him at least.

Merle slipped out as quietly as he could, not to wake up Daryl and walked briskly. Over to Andrea's tent.

Knelt down. 'Hi, ya there, sweet cheeks?' He whispered.

He heard stirring inside and then her tousled, blonde hair appeared, looking at him sleepily.

'Merle – what the fuck?' She hissed and looked around but everyone else was sleeping deeply apparently. 'Someone might see!' She whispered loudly.

Fortunately, like their tent, hers was a bit on the edge of the campfield, near the woods and more away from the others. He knew she was an independent woman – had lived in Atlanta before the Walker plague broke out. What would have formally been called 'A high-maintenance' woman– not the type that he or his brother would ever have come across or had a chance in hell of being with during the old days. Before the world ended and everything went to shit.

He didn't even ask if he could come in, just unzipped the tent and crawled inside. But her cheeks suddenly flushing and the excitement suddenly lighting up her eyes was all the answer he needed.

'Got an itch.' He told her before she kissed him and her hands started fumbling for his belt. 'Care to scratch it for me?' She chewed on her lower lip but of course he didn't say it was the dream about fucking his own brother that had given him the hard-on.

'Sh...' She replied. 'How is he? Is he OK with you leaving him alone?'

'Boy's sleepin'.' Changing the subject, he asked, stopping suddenly, 'They didn't hurt ya, did they? I mean, _really _ hurt ya?' The guilt that suddenly hit him, along with the image of Daryl's disgusted expression full of loathing at the things he'd done that had cut him to shreds made Merle suddenly worried. Had made him more careful about the thorny issue of consent than ever before. He drew back to inspect her face carefully to see her expression while she thought he looked more like Daryl in that moment.

'Nah. Not like...like …' She realised what she was about to say and hesitated, knowing Daryl's condition was still a raw subject, '...ya brother.' She didn't say that she'd slept with the Governor willingly but then he'd got bored with her when he'd got another eager bed-partner and locked her up. She'd been so humiliated and scared but she planned to keep that little secret from the rest of the group. Philip had obviously given orders for them not to treat her like the other prisoners in general – probably because he still saw her as _his_ but still, they had slapped her around a little. Like she was a favourite toy he'd got bored with but put away carefully in case he wanted to play with her later. Merle hadn't even known she was there – had never seen her. She wondered why he was worrying about that now when he'd never asked her before during their other liasions in secret. He didn't tell her that the nightmare – was it really a nightmare when he'd enjoyed it so much? – had put him in mind of when she'd been a prisoner. What she had endured – still she hadn't seemed in that bad shape when they'd rescued her – only a little bruised and battered, dirty and under-fed. But still in much better condition than his brother.

'Good.' He kissed her while she wound her arms around his neck. She would take care of his little 'problem', he knew and he'd hold her for a bit before making excuses. He didn't really do the cuddling thing afterwards and it was true when he told her that he had to get back to Daryl. _No, he only cuddled his baby brother but only because he was still so fragile_, he thought ironically to himself. He couldn't let his Daryl wake up on his own – he'd be scared and panic. Andrea smiled an nodded. She was a good girl – smart too - she understood and she cared about Daryl as well. Everybody did. Not many people could resist his sweet, tough, hardass, vulnerable baby brother once they got to know him.

Besides, she didn't want the others to find him in her tent either.

As he made his way back to the tent, he tried to remember how much of the dream had actually happened. The bottle still had some liquor in it – they probably hadn't spilled any. Had he wrestled Daryl to the floor – probably. But the rest? Had Daryl really kissed him? Because he knew sure as hell that he hadn't – _wouldn't _have made the first move.

It was a haze and fuzzy in his mind and he couldn't ask his brother. Probably Daryl didn't even remember.

He snuck back into their tent, they each had their own sleeping bag. As soon as he lay down, he scooted over to where Daryl was muttering in his sleep to put his arms around him so that he'd be holding him when he woke up. Making him feel safe. He was wondering again at his and Andrea's luck – he knew that one day he'd be caught sneaking out of Andrea's tent when he couldn't say that he'd just gone to take a piss.


	8. Chapter 8

**TTWH Chapter 8**

i.

Daryl woke up, yawning and stretching, shaking off the arms wound tightly around him.

'Get off me, Merle.' He said but smiled because he liked to wake up with his brother's arms around him, after what had happened at Woodbury, it made him feel safe. Maybe some people in the group didn't understand but _Fuck them_, he thought to himself.

'Fuck. Head's thumpin'.'

'Yeah, what was in that shit ya gave me last night?'

'No fuckin' idea. Moonshine – who the fuck's knows what's in that shit.'

'Ya tryin' to poison me?'

'Come on. Let's go get some breakfast and go huntin'. Fine day out.' Now Merle was yawning and stretching.

They went to get the porridge dished out by Carol and Maggie. As usual, the older Greene girl refused to serve the older Dixon, just glared at him. 'Still here?'

'What's it to you, sweetheart? I'm here for my brother.'

'Don't bring me into this.' Daryl interrupted. 'You got a problem with my brother, ya got a problem with me.' He told her before he turned heel. 'Come on, Merle. Let's get our own breakfast.' He threw his bowl into the bushes.

'Why did ya have to do that?' Carol rounded on Maggie. 'We can't have one Dixon without the other and besides, I really think Merle is trying to change.'

'Yeah, right.' Glenn's wife scoffed.

'You attack his brother, ya jus' end up upsettin' Daryl and he doesn't need it after what he's been through.'

Maggie blanched at that and looked away guiltily.

'Why can't ya just be civil and hold your tongue in future!' The older woman continued to harangue her.

'OK, OK...I can do civil. Don't mean I'm ever going to like that redneck sleazebag...'

Andrea came bouncing up in gym clothes, blonde ponytail flying. 'Hey, guys, what's up?'

'Oh, just talking about Merle.' Carol sighed, clearly sick of the subject.

'Yeah, that traitor. He's a complete creep, comes onto anything female – any woman who goes with him must be a complete brainless whore. Can't believe they're related – Daryl's so sweet – well, except when he's angry.' Maggie ranted.

Andrea turned her head away as she blushed despite herself. 'Well, I'm going to check the perimeter.' She jogged off in a hurry with her pistol.

'How about your breakfast?' Carol called after her.

'Er...I'm not hungry. Maybe catch up with you at lunchtime.' Andrea replied without looking back. She suddenly didn't want breakfast anymore.

ii.

Daryl

I was raging and fuming about how some people in the group were still treating my brother – OK, I knew he had made mistakes but they weren't perfect, even Maggie and Glenn. I could understand that they didn't trust him but then they had left him handcuffed to a roof to be eaten.

I sighed as we jogged along, trying to sweat out my frustration. I wondered why we bothered to hunt and protect them sometimes, they were so damn ungrateful.

'They forget everythin' ya do for them...' I hissed at his back. 'Yeah...somethin' bad happened to Maggie and it was ya fault but ya didn't do it. 'Sides, it was a year ago...why don't they jus' get over it...'

'Yeah – what he did to her ain't nothin' compared to what happened to you, baby brother.'

I flinched and he saw. Shrugged his shoulders apologetically. 'Didn't mean to bring all that shit up for ya again.'

'Yeah, I know.'

My stomach growled hungrily and I regretted throwing away my breakfast to make a point. It had taken me a while to start to eat regular, full meals again – when I'd been imprisoned, they'd only fed me once a day, if that. Thin, watery soup and a lump of stale bread if I was lucky. Merle said that he had to basically hand-feed me in those first few days, not that I could remember much about it. Now I was ravenous all the time. Herschel said it was my body replacing the food I'd missed out on, like vitamins and stuff now that I was safe again. I'd put on a little weight too.

'Keep that down, will ya?' My brother hissed at me.

'Can't control my stomach now, can I?'

'Shut up otherwise we ain't never gonna catch anything.'

We went deeper and deeper into the forest, tracking in silence. Saw a couple of stray squirrels but they were too fast – scampered up the tree before I could train my crossbow on them. I cursed at them under my breath.

Sh...' Merle waved to me a hand-signal to let me know he'd spotted something. Despite myself, my mouth started to water at the thought of cooked breakfast – squirrel or better - a big buck.

'Come on.' He whispered but as we came into a small clearing in the middle of the forest, we heard voices. Men's voices and ones that I recognised and made my blood turn to ice in my veins.

I heard their voices in their my head again and shook it to try and clear it. I knew all their names, they were burned into my memory. The fuckers must have escaped the fire, fled like the rats they were from the sinking ship that was Woodbury. Scum like them didn't have loyalty to anyone, not even to each other.

'Who whipped ya? Was it ya Daddy?...Because ya were bad?' Their laughter then merged into their laughter now. They had a campfire going, roasting a few squirrels just like we intended to.

'Did he fuck ya like this?' Then the pain and shame. My hands chaffing against the ropes, the tears leaking from eyes and the occasional sob or whimper slipped out from me when I couldn't stop them as the hours went on and on without even a break or a sip of water. They'd taunted me about them too.

'Look – the slut's crying! Thought you Dixons were tough...ya brother begged for mercy when we fucked him bothways.'

'No, he didn't! Merle wouldn't!' That was Jones – the most sadistic of them all. He didn't even use lube like the others did at least, pounding into me as hard as he could so I would feel like I was being ripped apart. 'Ya wanna see him? Think the Governor wants to kill him soon, use him in a show tonight and you'll never, ever see him again unless ya please us. But not you, no, he wants to keep ya around.' Then that cruel laughter from all of them. Their greedy hands roughly groping me everywhere even as they fucked me at both ends.

Merle turned to look at me, icy eyes glittering. - it was obvious, judging by my reaction. 'Sh..' He whispered, tried to lay a hand on my arm but I jerked away. He knew them too. He'd worked with them and done...other things with them but I didn't let myself dwell on them.

I could hear Mendez's voice, calling me a pretty boy and sleazily stroking my cheek. I'd flinched away but they'd held my head. 'What's the matter, baby? Ain't hurtin' ya.'

I'd spat in his face. 'Ya put that in my mouth and I'll bite it in half, mother-fucker.' I was glad that I'd got in a few punches, making one of the asshole's nose spurt blood and kicked another in the groin so that he moaned in pain, doubled-over but there were just too many of them. They'd beaten me to the ground for that, knocking me unconscious and I'd woken up, my wrists bound and groaning in pain before I knew where I was.

He'd laughed at that. 'Hold him down.' Turned to me. 'If ya don't, sweetheart, we'll kill ya brother. Yeah, we got Merle here too.'

'Liar! Where is he then? Lemme see him, asshole!'

They'd slashed my inner thighs then with the knife 'to add to the scars already there'. I couldn't see them do it – they were forcing my head to look straight ahead and that was the worst thing, never knowing what to expect.

In the end, I'd submitted but hating myself all the time for it. Because I could never be sure that Merle wasn't their prisoner...Never having sucked another man's dick before, apparently I was quite good because I soon had the bastard moaning and bucking in my mouth. Threatening to choke me.

And all that was before the Governor gave them permission, the go-ahead for them to do everything they wanted, not just oral. He'd been the worst by far.

We got behind a tree, getting a grip of the situation. How were were going to take them down.

I saw that bastard Mendez piss against a tree, then would have been a good time to attack. There were five of them we could see unless there were others not there at the moment – hunting or scouting but we had a feeling this was all of the group. These five rats, Mendez, Jones, Louie – a big black guy who had crushed me with his huge bodyweight so that I felt like I couldn't breathe, Smithy and Valentino.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

i.

Merle

I glanced over at him, saw that those damn shakes had returned but also the determination in my taunt baby brother's body and I had to admit that I'd hated seeing him so weak. Crying all the time at nothing like a pussy and if he hadn't been held prisoner and gang-raped for days, I would have been ashamed of a Dixon behaving like that. Nevertheless, I couldn't deny that I hadn't taken pleasure in his need for me to comfort him and make him better and the way he'd clung to me like a child. Painful as it had been to see him like that when he'd been flinching at his own shadow, hardly eating, a shivering, skinny shadow of himself. But he'd been getting better since I came back. Then I understood he wasn't trembling with fear now but with rage and this transformation in him came as a welcome change. With it, I felt that familiar thrill of lust when I saw his biceps literally strumming with fury and the need to deal out righteous revenge.

At least the adrenalin seemed to drive away my throbbing headache from the bootleg booze and I wondered if his hangover was suddenly gone as well. I guess that's what it was but apparently even my dick couldn't forget my baby brother, not even at a time like this when we were facing down our enemies, the sick rapist fucks who had reduced him to that state in the first place.

He motioned me away to hide even though standing back and watching him take them on all by himself was the last thing I wanted to do because I too, needed to kill he bastards. Torture them nice long and slow first, if we ever got the chance for what they did to him. I wouldn't be so merciful to give those sick fucks an easy death.

But didn't that make me a hypocrite? I didn't care – not in that moment. Nevertheless, I did as he told me silently to do because I realised that he needed to be the one to do this, he only wanted me to come in as back-up, if needed.

He sniggered. 'Mendez, told ya I was gonna bite ya bite ya dick in half but maybe I'll settle for jus' killin' ya instead, ya sick fuck. 'Cos ya cock tastes like shit.'

Even though we might be killed, hearing him talk so dirty and defiant was making me unbelievably hard. Was Daryl even aware of the effect he had on me half the time?

The Mexican turned in surprise which slowly turned to horror when he realised who my brother was. It took him time to recognise him, not surprising how many prisoners we'd done it too and they wouldn't even remember a victim so beautiful, strong and completely fuckable as my baby brother.

The bastard opened his mouth in protest, his dick still streaming steaming urine from his open flies onto the woody ground and I had half-expected Daryl to cringe back in fear at the sight, remembering how Mendez had used it to torture him. My brother didn't, a sure sign of how far he'd come and the scumbag only had a chance to stutter 'You...' when Daryl's bolt hit him squarely in the throat, cutting off his voice and his air-supply no doubt as he fell, gurgling and spurting blood from the wound. The idiot was frantically trying to tear it out, didn't he know that this was the sure way to die faster? He fell down, bolt still there as the blood pumped from his artery – the spot Daryl had intended to hit with faultless aim, I knew. Even so, I was thinking that he'd let him die too easy, if it had been the other way round, none of them would have given either of us a quick death.

The others were slow to react, didn't even notice the fall of their buddy they were so intent on stuffing their faces with the squirrels ready to be taken off the spit, breathing in the delicious smell of roasting meat. My mouth watered – after this was over, we would have a feast after all, we hadn't had any breakfast.

The others whipped their heads round, one down, four to go.

ii.

Daryl

I watched Mendez go down for a split second with cold satisfaction. Still, he hadn't been the worst one but bad enough. No sign of booze, no beer bottles – they were sober as a judge apparently and this made my heart glad because when I took them down, I wanted them to recognise me. Know who they'd let ambush them. Although I had my brother covering my back, I wanted to take them all out on my own, if possible.

'Remember me, ya fat fuck?' I called over. Luckily, I had time to reload my crossbow and hit the next target – Louie, the biggest, straight through the heart. He fell heavily like a sack of potatoes.

'What the fuck!' ...'Ya killed them!' The others tried to grab their guns but only Smithy had his on him, I could see their weapons lying, tossed carelessly on the ground. 'Nobody move!' I yelled. But they grinned, they knew I didn't have time to put in another bolt into my crossbow and shoot before Smithy at least, could pull his pistol out of his halter and the others could grab their guns.

Two down, three to go.

But then they hadn't seen Merle, I sensed that otherwise they wouldn't be so cocky if they knew he was behind me, melted back into the natural scenery. We Dixons were good at that – at camouflage, tracking our prey without being seen. Still, I was quietly confident, certain that their arrogance would be their downfall in overestimating me.

So, I did what they expected me least to do. I charged, swinging my crossbow side to side at their heads, zigzagging from side to side and Smithy fell to the ground – he was closest to me and the biggest threat before I rushed at Valentino. He'd been an ugly little rat of a man but one dangerous fuck and vicious with it, I shoved the threatening shudder aside at the memory of him licking my cheek like a dog and tracing my cheekbones with his finger. He'd been particularly enthusiastic with the knife, slashing at my inner thighs while the others fucked me, even more than the Jones.

Three down, two to go.

Valentino was ready and before I knew it I had him and Jones grappling with me but I fought like an alley-cat, no blow too low as I clawed and bit, trying to knee them in the groin.

'Remember us, slut? We're gonna fuck ya to death. Always wanted to know if it was possible...but _he _wouldn't let us...' Jones was whispering to me while I did my best to ignore him. Valentino just laughed at that while I fought the feeling of panic when I felt their hands all over me again, even though they weren't groping me just yet – still seeking a foothold to pin me down. I was drowning in the memories, the past flickering with the present so I thought I was back there for a split second. Even so, I was determined not to cry out for my brother but suddenly Valentino fell, instantly dead from a shot at the back of his head.

'Shit, Merle! I didn't need ya help! Was takin' care of it!' I yelled over to him in angry frustration.

'Yeah, looked like it.' He retorted sarcastically.

Three down, two to go.

'Merle?' Jones called out in surprise as my brother approached slowly, training his gun on the last bastard left. 'That you, buddy? Do ya know this pretty boy slut we almost fucked to death but didn't get the chance to?' He asked with fake camaraderie as he backed away from me. 'Ya remember all fun we had together, don't ya?'

'He's my baby brother, ya sick fuck.' Merle growled, ignoring the last question, eyes full of murderous fury.

Jones tried to backtrack, knew he had made a careless mistake. Started gabbling, 'We didn't know...ya were already gone by then...If we'd known... would never have touched 'im...I swear...'.

My brother wasn't listening, was narrowing his eyes to take aim.

'Merle!' I yelled out suddenly. I got my crossbow out, drew it too late because Smithy was getting to his feet behind my brother with his gun on us and smirking even while rubbing his bleeding head. Dealing with Jones, both of us had taken our eyes off him, forgotten about him. Totally out of character for a Dixon.

A fatal mistake.


End file.
